


Gold

by Eratoschild



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Erotic Photography, I'd never stop taking pictures either, M/M, Photography, a little voyeuristic, casual Iggy, if Iggy were my boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15034988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eratoschild/pseuds/Eratoschild
Summary: The way Prompto moves the fabric, Ignis can tell that setting up a photo is not the end game here. In a mere photo setup, palms don't drag so slowly over the skin they're uncovering as they push clothing out of the way. The photographer doesn't straddle the subject’s lap and roll his hips in a slow grind. The subject doesn't unzip the photographer’s vest or flick at a nipple. The photographer doesn’t close his eyes and bite his lip in response…





	Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [markofthemoros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/markofthemoros/gifts).



> Written as a thank you for the lovely gift of [Rabbit Hole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14326422). Go read it.

Prompto leans against the door frame. Arms crossed, watching across the room. He’s not sure his presence is known, and not sure he cares. For the moment at least.

Ignis is in “weekend” mode, a rare sight: relaxed on the sofa with a book. He’s wearing jeans, which he almost never does. As far Prompto is concerned, this is a tragedy. His shirt is white, button-down, a more casual mirror of his normal attire. The sleeves are undone and rolled to his elbows, the top few buttons open. His hair is messy, unstyled and falling over his forehead. He’s engrossed in reading a book, one that appears to be strictly for his own enjoyment for once.

Prompto’s gaze rakes up and down his seated form. A part of him wants to go and tear off those too-rare casual jeans and shirt. A part of him wants to leave them on while he finds a way to get them good an rumpled. Finally deciding that he doesn’t want to just observe from across the room, he pushes off the door frame and makes his way towards Ignis. Another part of him wins. For now, at least. And that's the part of him that just wants to take advantage of current circumstances of the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. The sun would set before too long but now...in the shadows and highlights it creates on him, Ignis looks like he's been plucked from some shoot from one of Insomnia’s elite men’s fashion magazines. 

Seeing movement from the corner of his eye, Ignis looks up, slowly. His lips curl up fondly. “Been standing there long?” he asks as Prompto moves across the room. 

“A few minutes,” Prompto replies.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay. I like watching you when you’re relaxed.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. And I like it when you don’t know I’m here.”

“Why is that?”

“It means you’ve let your guard down. You never do that.”

“I suppose I have. Well I have no reason not to with you.”

He’s across the room by now, down on his knees, smiling up at Ignis, and the golden light from the late sun casting sparks in his hair and changing the shade of green in his eyes.

Moments like this still take Prompto’s breath away. He wishes he didn't feel so damn shy. He has a request, one he’s made many times, one Ignis always grants. “Can I take some photos?”

Ignis’s glance darts playfully around the room. “Good lighting?”

“Good lighting,” he echoes with a nod.

“Well,” Ignis replies, “I suppose it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“Don’t move!"

“I have no such intention. Go now, get your camera.”

Ignis watches as he departs. Prompto never seems to tire of these spur of the moment photo shoots. He has no artistic training but he's picked up a bit about the ins and outs of cameras from Prompto. Informed by his personal sense of aesthetics, he's become a competent photographer in his own right. Paying attention to patterns and consistencies, he's gotten a solid understanding of the times when Prompto is likely to want to take photos.

Camera in hand, he doesn’t quite pass the doorway just yet, wanting to get a few candid shots. Ignis, his face thoughtful, eyes intent on the page, lips slightly open in a small “o”, Prompto disables the flash, adjusts the other settings and brings the camera to his eye. _Click._

Just like that, Ignis brings a hand up to push hair from his eyes. _Click._ It’s captured. The hand pushes further back, comes to rest over his head on the chair back. _Click._ He’s been caught. Ignis looks up, straight at him. The moment passed, Prompto makes his way into the room again, stopping halfway to capture the look Ignis is giving him: one eyebrow slightly cocked, same side of his lips twitching upwards in amusement.

He comes around to the side, facing the window, the golden glow surrounding Ignis almost like a divine radiance, warm and beautiful.

“Just pretend I’m not here. Keep reading.”

His voice is soft. “How can I pretend you’re not here when you’re paying such attention to me?”

It’s Prompto’s turn to cock an eyebrow.

“Your concentration and focus are legendary, babe, are you telling me you can't filter out a few camera clicks?”

This earns him a smirk. _Click._ Speaking of legendary, Ignis’ smirks are the stuff wet dreams are made of. (Truth be told, Prompto would be hard pressed to think of a part of him that isn't, but his smirks are well up there on the list.)

He drops to a knee in front of Ignis. Crouching as low to the floor as he can, capturing the placid face looming over the edge of the book. Bespectacled green eyes peer , flicking from the page to look straight at him. The gold of the light has deepened and his thoughts are staring to meander. He taps at Ignis’s foot, which earns a questioning look. _Click_ He pulls at it until the hint is taken and it's lowered to the floor. “Hey, can I do something else?”

“Hmm?”

He finds the scrap of paper Ignis was using as a marker, takes the book and puts it to the side. 

“Just stay like that for a minute.” He positions himself between Ignis’s legs, elbows braced on his knees, camera pointed slightly upwards to capture the open, curious countenance.

"Having fun?" 

"My boyfriend is a photographer's dream, are you kidding?”

"Oh? Well then why are you taking pictures of me? You'll have to introduce me to this specimen of such gorgeous aesthetics  sometime."

Prompto huffs a laugh at that, then pushes upwards until he can easily pull Ignis towards him, their lips meeting briefly

"Sometimes I wonder if you're actually just teasing me or if you really don't realize exactly how hot you are,” Prompto muses as he pulls back.

"Have you considered that I might just like it when you stroke my ego?" 

"Oh. _Ego?_ Is that what you're calling it now?" Prompto asks with a cheeky grin and a pointed downward glance.

"Would you stroke it if I did?” 

Prompto puts a hand to his chin in mock contemplation, after a minute he replies, "I might. Or I might do other things….” 

"Other things?" Ignis replies with amusement.  

"Yes, but for the moment, keep your _ego_ in check, okay?”

Ignis smirks again. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Prompto reaches over to undo the first two buttons on Ignis’s shirt and spread the collar. He’s met with a curious half smile. “What are you doing? 

“Just setting up a shot.”

“I see.”

“Can you maybe slouch a little?”

Ignis humors him, sliding his ass forward just a bit on the sofa cushion. “Here, take your book back,” Prompto directs, opening it at the marker and handing it back to him. Ignis crosses his legs again, resting the open book on one knee. _Click._

Prompto stops, flicks through his photos. Not sure why he suddenly feels uncertain, he asks, “Hey Iggy, I’m not interrupting you or anything? I mean, I know I am but if it’s a bother-“

Ignis stops him with an indulgent smile. “No, it’s fine. I think I’ve grown to like your sort of attention more than I ever would have expected. It’s easy to get swept into your… passion; it’s quite contagious.”

Prompto bites his lip, a little giggle escapes. “Okay, Guess you won’t mind if I do this then?

“What’s that?”

“Put your foot down again and hold this for a minute?” He hands Ignis the camera and kneels on the sofa, a knee on either side of Ignis's legs, and unbuttons more of his shirt, hands sliding lazily over newly-exposed flesh as his hips press against Ignis's a bit more than absolutely necessary.

The way Prompto moves the fabric, Ignis can tell that setting up a photo is not the end game here. In a mere photo setup, palms don't drag so slowly over the skin they're uncovering as they push clothing out of the way. The photographer doesn't straddle the subject’s lap and roll his hips in a slow grind. The subject doesn't unzip the photographer’s vest or flick at a nipple. The photographer doesn’t close his eyes and bite his lip in response…

Ignis puts the book down and turns the camera. _Click._ He studies the screen _._ “Oh this is quite nice.” He turns the screen toward Prompto to show him the photo he's taken. “The light is good to you as well.”

Indeed it is. He knows that Prompto doesn’t usually think of himself as photogenic but to the contrary, Ignis has captured quite a pleasing image: arms outstretched, his head is inclined at an angle that makes his eyes appear nearly closed, eyelashes and freckles appearing a deep burnished shade in the deepening light, a hint of tongue peeking out.

Taking the camera back, he directs Ignis, “Now lean forward for a minute.” As he does, Prompto pushes the shirt down his shoulders so that it falls around his biceps, well-toned chest exposed. “Okay, put the marker in your book and put it to the side.” _Click._ Prompto moves back and to the side a bit, “Now look right at me.” _Click._ “Open your mouth just a little, like this,” he demonstrated what he wanted, “Okay, good.”

He moves around Ignis, adjusting his pose a few times – one knee bent with his foot on the edge of the sofa cushion, another with his arm set up behind him so his head rested in the crook of his elbow. He's not usually the one telling Ignis what to do but when the camera is out, it's a different story.

“Okay, good. Now…” his eye takes on a mischievous glint and he doesn't move, just studies Ignis for a moment.

“I can see the wheels turning in that pretty blond head of yours,” Ignis informs him. “Now...what?”He hands the camera over.Kneeling down again, Prompto undoes his belt and jeans. 

As he does, Ignis snaps another picture and turns the screen towards him. The frame is filled with denim-covered thighs, freckle-covered hands working at the button and zipper. Prompto's head is bent to show mostly his hair, but cheeks and a nose and eyelashes can be seen. 

For now he’s only opened the button and zipper, no more skin exposed, but the deep purple fabric of Ignis’s underwear contrasts against the faded blue of his jeans.  

“There,” he says, taking the camera gain and and snapping a few more pictures. Straight on, from the side, at an angle…He climbs up to straddle Ignis again, leaning forward until their lips meet. He grips the backrest of the sofa, bracing his arms. Ignis's hands land on his knees, sliding up his thighs before coming to rest on his waist as Prompto's lips find his jaw and start a path back towards his ear. “Wanna see what I’ve taken so far?”

“Certainly.”

He sits back on Ignis's knees, brings the photos up on his screen and shows him the last one. “I really like this one,” he offers almost shyly. Ignis had just brought one hand up to rub the back of his neck, face turned in the opposite direction but eyes pointed back towards the camera. He'd been speaking, so his mouth was partially open, a hint of tongue visible. There's something alluring in the conflicting angles, the parted lips.

“Let me take a few more.” He takes his time, slides his hand, slowly, up Ignis’s neck, then along his jaw, gently nudging his chin in the direction he wants. “Okay, there.” _Click._ Prompto captures his face in profile, turned so that nose and shoulder are perfectly parallel, capturing the elegant line of his neck, the way the top of his shirt is bunched around his arms just so.

He moves closer, frames the image so that it’s capturing the same angle, but only from his cheekbones down, adjusting the setting to bring the contrast or sharp lines and softness in Ignis’s face into focus. _Click._ Another one. _Click._ Another. There’s one of just his eyes, green and framed with sandy lashes. And another, close-up in the dip and smoothness of his clavicle. Prompto leans down to kiss along the ridge of bone. Ignis takes the camera from him.

With the way Prompto is bent, Ignis sees an opportunity to capture an image of the plane of his back. He holds the camera at an angle over Prompto’s shoulder, snaps the button, studies the screen- tries to anyway, distracted by the shudder running over him him as calloused fingers brush over a stiffening nipple, becoming more sensitive as the touch repeats again and again. A hot tongue slides along his collarbone, lips press to the junction of throat and shoulder, and then cool air is on him again as Prompto sits back. Ignis pushes the open vest off his shoulders and down the arms dusted with freckles. It reaches his wrists, falls off and momentarily catches on Ignis’s knee before sliding to the floor.  

On screen, freckled skin and contour of muscle over spine. Ignis wraps an arm around him to run his fingertips up that spine, over those contours, relishing the shiver that passes through Prompto, the sheer pliancy at his touch.

Taking the camera and setting it to the side for the moment, Prompto leans forward, lips to Ignis’s again, heat building with their kiss. Running his hands up between them, pausing to flick his thumbnails across already stiffened nipples, drawing a hiss in response, moving on, over his shoulders, up along each side of his throat to thread through silky gold sunlit hair, mussing it more than it already had been. His fists close around the strands, pulling, just a little, then letting go with a soft bite to Ignis’s lip, sits back and studies his lover. “You need to have messy hair more often,” Prompto comments, admiring how the strands fall haphazardly across his forehead now, and collecting the camera again to snap another picture. The light is a bit dimmer now, but the brightest of it still illuminating sea green eyes.

“Should I?” Ignis asks teasingly.

Prompto turns the camera to him. “Have you seen yourself? Look at this.”

“Pretend I haven’t. Tell me about it.” Ignis says without looking at the screen, but waiting. When Prompto says nothing, he looks up expectantly. “Well?”

“Well,” Prompto echoes, “It’s really-“ he’s interrupted. As he speaks, Ignis leans forward and grazes his teeth across one of Prompto’s nipples, through his tank top, drawing a soft whine. His breath hitches as the teeth bite down on it, “fucking hot,” he’s starting to get hard now, “when you look,” teeth graze over the other nipple, “like you’ve just,” Now a bite to that nipple, “had a good fuck.”

“And what about when I actually have just had a good fuck?” Ignis asks, thumbing both at once.

Prompto takes ahold of Ignis’s wrists and removes his hands so he can answer. “I was a little out of it last time you did. We’ll have to do it again. So I can take a picture for comparison.”

“Oh, will we?

“Yeah. Important documentation.”

“Oh, well if it’s for documentation...”

“It is. I’ve got to be able to properly compare them.”

“You know how I feel about the importance of being thorough,” Ignis said as his hands move to undo Prompto’s fly, popping the button and pulling painstakingly slowly at the tab.

“Yeah,” Prompto breathes as knuckles graze downwards over his cock, zipper dragging torturously, then fingertips make their way upwards again, his boxers a much thinner barrier than his jeans had been. 

“And you,” Ignis says, lips curling as he speaks, “I do enjoy capturing the way you look, or if we’re being very specific, I especially enjoy collecting reminders of the way you look because of what I’ve done.”

“Specific, yeah. You never did like ambiguity.” Prompto replies.

“Quite right.” He slides his hands up under Prompto’s tank top and pushes it over his head so that it also falls to the floor. He returns to his earlier point of attention, flicking his tongue across a nipple, hearing the same whine from before. He snaps a picture, Prompto’s teeth sinking into his lower lip, eyes half closed, his head tilted slightly back and to the side, his throat invitingly vulnerable.

Ignis puts the camera besides them and pulls Prompto closer, drags his tongue across the dip of a clavicle, sucking gently at the base of his throat, a moan escapes his own as Prompto’s hand comes between them to palm him with a light but deliberate pressure. He strains against the hand, seeking friction. Prompto pulls it away and leans in to roll his hips. As he does, Ignis seizes his thighs and presses upward, each exhales his own sharp breath.

Prompto takes up the camera. “Do that again,” he gasps.”

Ignis does as asked, the camera clicks, the photo comes out a bit blurry. “Again,” he says displaying the screen.

He repeats, several times, several clicks. “I’m sure one of these will be usable,” Prompto pants and bends to suck at one of Ignis’s nipples while fingering the other, eliciting another moan. He slides his other palm across the dip and curve of Ignis’s well-defined torso.

“Six. How are abs like this even legal?” He shuffles back a few inches so he can bend further, to reach the hard contours with his mouth, turned on still further by the twitch and flutter of muscle under his tongue.

“Because I have sufficient influence to keep them from being outlawed.” His attempt at dry humor is littered with a gasp here, a pant there.

Prompto grabs the top of the shirt, still bunched around Ignis’s biceps, and starts raking it down his arms. Ignis leans forward, pulls the cuffs down over his wrists, his arms the rest of the way from his sleeves.

 

Both of them now with fully bared torsos and pants halfway to being off, Prompto leans forward until there's no space between them. Ignis wraps his arms around his back, one hand tracing up and down his spine as he pulls Prompto harder against his mouth to lick, alternating, between both hardened nipples. Prompto arches into his tongue, takes up the camera and points it downward to capture the image between them while he grinds his hips, tortuously slow, until both are breathing raggedly. 

Prompto shifts back slightly and looks at Ignis hungrily. 

“Know what you should do?”

“What’s that?”

“You should lay down.”

“Should I? Why's that?” As he asks the question, Ignis presses up into him and nibbles at a nipple again. As he does, Prompto nearly drops the camera, electricity courses across his nerves and he exhales shakily.

“B-because I want you to,” he replies in an unsteady voice as Ignis doesn’t stop.

“I’m rather enjoying you like this,” Ignis says with a smirk. “I’m going to need a better reason than that.” He punctuates it with a bite to the other nipple. Prompto shudders against him. “See? Why would I want to move when you keep doing that?”

“Well, if that’s all you want me to do, I guess you can just stay like this. Other things can wait for another time.”

“Other things? Elaborate.” Ignis pulls back, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmm, nope. You like me like this; you’re getting more of it,” Prompto shoots back, now showing Ignis the same treatment he’d gotten only moments ago.

A minute later, there’s a low, dark laugh in Ignis’s throat and he’s grabbing Prompto by the wrist and maneuvering to lay along the length of the sofa, reclining against the arm.

Prompto’s straddling his knees now, one of his own wedged between Ignis and the back of the sofa. Ignis brings an arm to rest behind his head as Prompto raises the camera for a shot, then turns it vertically for another, snapping a few more close-up detailed shots.

“Okay, now hold this for a minute,” he hands the camera to Ignis and hooks his fingers into his belt loops, tugging them towards him. Ignis lifts his hips to ease the removal.

As Prompto pulls his jeans down, Ignis turns the camera on him again. Prompto looks up through the hair falling in his eyes, a hint of a mischievous grin on his lips as he tugs. Once they’re as far down as he can get them, Prompto stands up and pulls them the rest of the way off before going to rummage in the drawer of sofa’s end table. Finding what he’s looking for, he puts a bottle of lube and a condom on the cushion next to Ignis and pushes down his own jeans and underwear.

Returning to his prior position astride Ignis, he stretches forward on top of him so he’s stretched out on top of him, one hand splayed across Ignis’s chest, chin on top of his hand, staring straight into pale green eyes. For a minute he lays there, reveling in the comfort of warm flesh against warm flesh, the feeling of heart beating under his fingertips, .

“Got you right where I want you,” he comments finally.

“Oh, do you?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And naked.”

“So it seems.”

Prompto takes the camera back again, backs up and snaps a few shots, hands the camera back and grasps Ignis’s cock, leaning down to take him partway into his mouth and back again. Ignis’s thigh jolt under the flick of Prompto’s tongue, the soft sucking of his lips.

He looks up and raises an eyebrow, Ignis snaps another picture as he slides his lips down the shaft, sucking, just barely, then pulling back to lick and suck along the inside of Ignis’s thighs, deceptively lean to the eye, pure hard muscle to the touch, twitching and jumping under his attentions, drawing an identical reaction in his own cock.

As Prompto’s teeth and tongue make their way around his thighs, he slides his hands up until his thumbs make their way along the smooth, silky creases above them. After a few minutes of this, he starts inching his way forward, mouth following the same trail as his hands, licking and nipping up one side and then the other.

Moving still further forward, knees now bracketing Ignis’s hips, his hands move up, over impossibly smooth pecs and shoulders, leaning forward, their lips meet, again, more insistent than before, more intent than playful, what was previously wanting is now more like need.

“Still want to know what other things I was thinking?”

“Always.”

Usually, it’s Ignis telling him what he wants to do. Prompto is always happy to hear his ideas, and even more so to let him carry them out. Repeat performances in his dreams are frequent. In time, Prompto has grown bolder. He's grown more comfortable with asking for what he wants from Ignis, and saying what he wants to do himself.

Right now is no different. His hands retreat until they each encounter a tiny, hardened nub. He flicks his thumbnails across them, just as Ignis had earlier done to him. Once the body underneath him begins to writhe and moan under his touch, he leans down again and whispers, “Nothing too crazy, really. I just want to ride you and keep taking photos for as longas I can while you fuck me senseless.”

Feeling the hard cock underneath him twitch, he laughs. “I can tell you like that idea.”

“Very much.”

“Before you do though, I’m not done.”

Prompto picks up the camera again, slides back and forth a few times over Ignis’s erection, still hard between his thighs and under him. _Click. Click. Click._ He captures several shots of Ignis’s face as he reacts to the stimulation. A couple of the shots are a bit shaky, Prompto is anything but immune to what he's doing himself. Photos can’t quite capture everything – the shake in his breath, the flutter in his eyelashes, the strain in his voice.

But it does so perfectly capture the arch in his neck as he tilts his head back, the perfect parting of his lips and sinking of his teeth into them, the perfectly unabashed lust in the depth of his green eyes.

Prompto reaches behind himself, slides his palm under Ignis’s cock, pressing it against himself as he moves along its length.

“You should see yourself,” Ignis tells him in a voice, takes the camera from him. “Astrals, darling. The look on your face,” he says, voice husky, accent emphasized. Prompto has always loved the sound of his voice but he never would have imagined, before he first heard it with his own ears, that Ignis, in the throes of lust, was essentially the sound of distilled sex itself.

The camera is turned on him again. He feels his face contort in pleasure. _Click. Click_. He’s so hard, he's practically aching. Ignis reaches up and tweaks one of his nipples, drawing a whine. _Click._ He trails fingers down Prompto’s abs C _lick_.

“Want you,” Prompto breathes as he moves against Ignis’s cock.

Ignis nods in agreement, eyes closed.

Prompto grabs the lube, squeezes some out. He starts teasing into himself. Eyes closed, he bites his lip, moving as quickly as his body will allow- too slowly- against his own fingers. “Can’t wait for this to be you,” he breathes as he takes his other hand and strokes his cock a few times because he knows Ignis loves the sight. _Click._

“I’m going to enjoy these later,” Ignis informs him, eyes roving lasciviously all over his body. He leans forward and, taking Prompto in hand, slips his mouth over the head of his cock, gives a few strokes to the shaft, flicks his tongue across the slit. Soon he’s is whining at the stimulation. Ignis knows when to pull back, when to let go. He tweaks at Prompto’s nipples and grazes fingertips over his balls.

“Can’t wait for this to be you,” he tells Ignis through clenched teeth, eyes closed, working another finger into himself. “Almost there.” Ignis is still hard against him, he’s almost ready, and then that last finger is in. Prompto pulls in a long breath, lets it out.

He opens his eyes, a hand on Ignis’s chest, leans forward for a languid kiss. His tongue swipes slowly across Ignis’s, teeth catch his lower lip and bite it firmly, then suck on it slowly. He flicks a thumbnail across Ignis’s nipples before sitting up again, moving back enough to apply the condom and lube.

He slides forward again, braces a hand against Ignis’s chest, positions the tip of his cock at the right angle, and descends slowly against it. 

“Mmmh…” he moans as Ignis presses into him, rocking slowly upward to match the unhurried rise and fall that he's setting. Opening his eyes, he sees his lover, a smirk on his lips, flipping through photos on the camera, his gaze alternating between Prompto and the screen. Something about fucking while Ignis’s attention is divided drives his arousal through the roof and he he wishes he had another camera in reach to capture it but he doesn't and can't help but take himself in hand and give his cock a few strokes.

His head falls back, lips part and breath comes in gasps. There's the click of the camera, attention is back on him again. 

“My goodness, you are quite the sight.” 

“You’re doing it to me.” Reaching out, Prompto takes the camera. “My turn.” He sinks until Ignis is again fully sheathed inside him and as he does, begins moving his hips in slow circles. Ignis’s hands, deceptively delicate, hold onto him like a vice, and the upward thrusting against him begins in earnest. He snaps the last few shots of the face below him, shifting and contorting in pleasure, while he knows he still safely can. His breath becomes harsher, the thrusting sharper. When he sees that Prompto, letting out a yelp with each jolt, can no longer hold the camera securely, Ignis reaches to take it from him, puts it aside, and takes hold of Prompto again, locking him in place as they move against each other. 

A litany of profanities fall from Prompto's lips as heat and friction between them build the slow fever pitch. He falls forward against Ignis’s chest as he grinds and rolls, Ignis's cock inside of him and his own caught between them almost too much sensation to bear as he bites at a taut shoulder and feels the blunt scrape of nails down his back. 

Ignis gazes up at Prompto, almost in wonder as they grind against each other, Prompto tight and hot around him. Eyes closed, his lashes flutter like a golden wave across the freckled surface of his cheekbones, neck arching as his head tilts back. Ignis knows that the hold he has on him is enough to keep him stable but he savors the flexing and digging of fingers gripping his biceps no less for it.

As the burnished golden light cools to dusk, the heat between them continues to rise. His upward thrusts become sharper, Prompto’s grinding more jerky. Breath comes ragged, his heart pounds in his ears. Pleasure and electricity build as flesh moves across flesh, their moans and whines mingle. Prompto pitches forward until their lips collide, without grace, without refinement. It doesn’t matter now, he’s lost to the maelstrom of sensation.

The change in angle is almost too much as Ignis’s cock is suddenly hitting him in a whole other way, shocks race through his nervous system. His thighs twitch, _hard_ against Ignis’s legs.He’s not going to last much longer, and he can tell from the disintegration of rhythm of Ignis’s movement, he won’t either. He takes himself in hand and begins stroking, trying to keep it slow and smooth but only succeeding in jerking to match the rest of their movements. It doesn’t matter, it's what he needs now.  
  
Ignis gives a particularly hard jerk of his hips as Prompto clenches more tightly around him, hand going to his own cock and a cry falling from his lips. The sound, the sight, the sensations…he’s been sucked in and he’s barely holding on, nearly..falling…pleasure tightens, coils, like a spiring, twists…a little tighter…one more turn, and then another, until he’s finally over-wound and something snaps. His grip on Promoto must be almost bruising now but he hears no complaint from his lover, who is lost in a near-frantic stroking of his own cock, grinding down on Ignis, thighs twitching and clenching as he does.

Head tipped back as he moves, the moans and cries come louder, sharper now, until finally release overtakes him and he’s spilling liquid heat over his fingers and in between them. Ignis’s grip on him tightens, nearly to a point of pain, Prompto sees a ripple pass over his abs and feels the clenching of thighs under him and he knows that he is following him off that edge now, he falls forward, they meet in an artless, desperate clash of lips and teeth and tongues, riding out their release as hearts and breathing return to normal.

Ignis feels behind him for a box of tissues on the end table as Prompto sits up again, taking a few tissues from the box, and wiping both of them off. He grabs the camera again and snaps a few photos. No glasses, half-lidded eyes, hair a complete mess.

“Oh yeah,” Prompto says, jabbing a finger at the screen, then turning it to show him. “That’s a good look for you.”

Ignis takes the camera and snaps a couple of Prompto. “I’d say the same for you.”

The last traces of the sun are quickly disappearing. Prompto reaches over them and turns on the lamp on the table. “Well, I’d say that was a good photo shoot. Can’t wait to do it again.”

“Do you really not tire of photographing me?”

“Are you kidding? I don’t understand how you never take selfies. Someone’s gotta document that hotness.”

“I see. And perhaps I should take up photography as a regular hobby myself,” Ignis muses, turning the camera on Prompto again.


End file.
